Time & Consequences: Revised 2023 English Edition

By M. Lauryn Alexander

Turquoise Nez Timerhorn seems to have it all. She's gorgeous. She's got lots of friends and admirers. Her boyfriend - Ed; who has supermodel looks and is not only captain of the unbeaten basketball team but also a high achiever in the classroom - adores her. She even lands a plumb internship. Turquoise and Ed are shoo-ins for King and Queen of t

• Language: English
• Publisher: Success Essentials Publishing Company, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9780990758532

Book preview

Two Tickets to Happiness

Ed Windsong held two tickets to happiness tightly in his strong bronze fist. With much care, he slipped the tickets behind the crisp one-hundred-dollar bill that he kept in his smooth, brown leather wallet. The large bill was there only for an emergency. He had never felt the necessity to spend it.

Ed, a high school senior, felt he was the luckiest guy in the world. His 6' 1", 185-pound, muscular frame moved like a gazelle both on and off the basketball court. Most people mistook Ed for a Madison Avenue supermodel because of his above-average looks. But he was not a model. He was the powerhouse captain of an unbeatable high school basketball team, the Cranes.

Hawthorne Hills High School’s best basketball player, Ed, had both the talent and the power to make or break anyone who got in his way on the court. Ed played to win. No one at Hawthorne Hills High School could remember a winning streak of this magnitude, 25-0. Ed’s eagerness to emulate other great basketball stars made him a formidable opponent.

Having athletic prowess was not enough for Ed The Scholarman. His academic average in school for all of his subjects put him in the top 5 percent of his graduating class. He had his eyes set on a scholarship to Kingsmith College. He planned to attend their law school after his undergraduate degree was completed. Negotiating contracts fascinated him immensely.

Ed brought this same passion to his relationship with a certain young lady. He could not imagine being without her. His fingers demanded that he pick up his cell phone. He had to have an answer about the two tickets in his pocket. He dialed her number — as he had countless times in the past, whether he was at home or at his part-time job.

It was a warm, late May afternoon in 2006 which was filled with expectations and hope. As a file clerk at the law offices of Bracy, Wong & Lopez, Ed enjoyed many perks at his part-time job. He did not earn enough money to carry around a sleek, black cellular phone in a burgundy leather briefcase — but he owned both of these things nonetheless. Some things, to his way of thinking, were essential to have in order to make a statement about who you were and where you were going in life.

Good afternoon. May I please speak to Miss Timerhorn? Ed spoke in a distinguished voice, like a newscaster from the six o’clock news.

Hi, Edward, you must be calling from work, right? teased the velvety voice on the other end of the line.

Yeah — how did you know? Ed said, chuckling to himself.

You know my first name, and you didn’t use it. You called me ‘Miss Timerhorn.’ That’s a dead giveaway, if I ever heard one, Edward, quipped the young lady who had stolen Ed’s heart with her analytical mind and intoxicating smile.

Please call me ‘Ed’, the masculine voice sternly pleaded.

Let’s not go there, Edward! You know I get great joy out of calling you ‘Edward.’ It might be because no one else does, laughed the taunting voice, ignoring the fact that it offended him. Turquoise felt that she could call him anything she wanted to. After all, her initials were T.N.T., pure dynamite.

In more formal situations, she was known as Turquoise Nez Timerhorn. She was a bronze bombshell with brains and a determined mind. The radiant smile that she flashed to everyone made them feel like she was speaking directly and exclusively to them — and them only. Everyone wanted to talk to her.

When people met Turquoise, they treated her like a celebrity. In turn, she treated them like a friend. Despite her parents’ warning, Don’t talk to strangers, she had an unusually candid ability to instantly consider anyone she met her friend. She collected business cards from people and placed the person’s name in her address book, filing these names under the category of friend, even if she never saw the individuals again in her life.

Turquoise felt that she could communicate well with Edward — the nickname she tenderly called him by, even though his birth certificate had his name as Ed Windsong. She never considered that calling someone by a name other than his or her given name was a form of manipulation.

With no response from Edward after ten seconds, Turquoise cleared her throat.

Well, Edward, are we going or not? asked Ed’s girlfriend in an impatient, cooing voice.

She continued talking in her patented nonstop manner.

Are we going to make our Senior Prom ‘a night to remember’?

Ed’s mood softened and a grin spread across his face as he tried to conceal his romantic thoughts. Yes, we are going to the Hawthorne Hills High School Senior Prom. I have just picked up our two tickets to happiness.

To happiness? mused Turquoise reflectively as she stared at her calendar on her wall. She saw that the prom was less than two weeks away. So much to do, so little time!

Momentarily, Ed dropped his voice to a soft, breezy whisper. Just think, honey drop, a year and a half ago, this dream could not have been.

Yes, Edward. I remember that fateful day when I spilled acid on your work shoes and briefcase in the chemistry lab.

That I didn’t mind, but what really bothered me was that your average was two points higher than mine, Ed laughed playfully. He touched the tarnished spot on his briefcase while he shook his head, saying, I still carry around a tiny stain of your acid-love on my briefcase as a remembrance of you, baby-cakes, Ed teased in a phony I’ll-get-even with-you voice.

Hey, pumpkin, I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have such a gem like you.

No, I’m lucky to have you, sighed Turquoise.

Ed hung up the telephone nine minutes later with the words, I’ll pick you up at six o’clock on prom night.

Becky

Turquoise never had to worry about finding dates. On the contrary, Ms. Timerhorn had complained on several occasions to her best friend Rebecca Córpuz about how many dates she had to turn down.

Four years ago, at the beginning of their freshman year of high school, she had commented to Rebecca, They were all lovesick puppies, Becky.

Gee, I wish I had your problem, Rebecca murmured under her breath that day as she bit her already short fingernails. As a recent immigrant to America, Rebecca always felt at odds with her new culture.

Turquoise, can you tell me how you — eh, eh, er? stammered Becky. She continued with her inquiry but this time with jerky speech, "Can you tell me how you make boys ‘know-tiss u’?"

Becky looked up to discover her question had fallen on absent ears. Her friend’s silky long legs had carried her away to her next class. She was no longer at Becky’s side.

Rebecca knew Turquoise as well as she knew herself. They had attended the same middle school and now high school together.

Hi. What’s your name? an inquisitive girl sitting next to another classmate in Mrs. Jones’s seventh-grade class on that cool September morning in 2000 had asked.

Huh? Me? responded a shy girl who pulled her fingers out of her mouth in order to reply to a bold classmate. After pausing for a second, the classmate replied, I’m Rebecca Córpuz, the student answered in a barely audible voice.

For a brief moment, she glanced down at the floor and then faced the classmate, who apparently wanted to make friends with her. She continued the conversation and asked, And what’s yours?

I’m Turquoise Nez Timerhorn.

That’s a long name. What do your parents call you at home?

Just ‘Turquoise’ — but my older sister calls me ‘T.N.T.’ She teases me because my initials are the same as dynamite. Do you have a nickname?

‘Rebecca’ sounds too grown up for me, so I prefer to be called ‘Becky.’

There you go. I’ll call you ‘Becky.’

Do you want to have lunch together later in the cafeteria?

Okay. Let’s be quiet now, because Mrs. Jones is looking at us. We’ll talk later.

And later they did talk. From the beginning of middle school, straight through their senior year in high school, these pals spoke daily by phone, studied at the local library, ate at each other’s home, and went to the stores together every August for Back-to-School shopping. To know someone so well can be a blessing or a curse, because you know his or her modus operandi.

Becky, I can’t believe the prom is just around the corner, Turquoise mused.

Yeah, and what am I going to do about my nails? It’s a nervous habit. I just can’t help it.

Nobody’s perfect. I’ve got my issues, too!

Kismet had brought them together. Their mutual interests had blossomed into a true friendship.

Let the Decorating Begin

The Grand Ballroom of the Golden Paradise Hotel had been closed off for two days in order to prepare it for prom night. It was traditional for the prom to be held at this local architectural landmark. Its grand arches made kings and queens of the ordinary people who passed through its portals.

The Hawthorne Hills Prom Committee had started to transform the Grand Ballroom. Soon it would become a teenager’s fantasy pavilion. The stage was being set as an elaborate throne room for the coronation of the royal couple who would become King and Queen.

As the last committee member walked into the ballroom, the festive mood began.

It’s 9:13 a.m., said Paul Wyker to the students who had come to help set up, while he sipped his second cup of coffee. Feeling like a teenager again, Mr. Wyker announced to his volunteers, "Let’s do it! Let the games — Ooops — I mean, let the decorating begin!"

As Student Activity Advisor to the high school seniors, Mr. Wyker adorned the walls with the first indigo and cream balloons. These were his favorite colors.

Mr. Wyker had never outgrown his love and excitement of being with young people. After teaching six years on the college level, he chose to return to his beloved Hawthorne Hills High School, from which he had graduated many years before.

As a young adult, Paul Wyker loved to party. Now, as the Student Advisor for a graduating class of 388 seniors, he had his hands full, playing surrogate father, advisor, minister, and handyman to the senior class.

He knew what it took to make a prom. After all, he had supervised and emceed proms for twenty-two consecutive years. He was always proud to be the one to surprise the crowd by announcing the royal couples.

These coveted titles, along with the publicity, would highlight the evening for any senior lucky enough to be chosen. The entire student body had to validate one choice and an alternate for each title, just in case the King or Queen might be disqualified. However, in the entire history of the school, no one could remember any alternates actually winning the crowns.

My Girl

The humid air made people walk slower than usual to their homes. It was dusk. The day before the Hawthorne Hills High School prom held many hopes.

Four tall figures walked in the waning light. One pair was identical except that one threw the basketball with his strong right hand, while the other one had exceptional shooting skills using his left.

One solo figure trailed behind them. The loner took firm steps to catch up with the other guys, who were a few paces ahead of him.

Hey, you benchwarmers! yelled Ed Windsong aloud, prankishly. The 230-pound, 6' 10" muscular frame of Griffin Lee Browne stopped dead in his tracks. He slowly turned half-way around. Instantly he flexed a big fist at the sorry sucker who dared to yell such a ridiculous insult at him.

Hey, my fist fits right in yer bloody mouth, barked Griffin until he turned fully around toward Ed. What’s up? Griffin said as he greeted his good buddy, the captain of his basketball team, the Cranes.

It irked Griffin that Ed met life in such a relaxed and casual way. Everything seemed to fall into place for the team’s captain so naturally — his athletic talent and friendship with Turquoise. Griffin asked himself regularly, Why do I let him get to me the way I do?

Hey, guy. Aren’t you listening to me? Do you hear me? Ed asserted as he interrupted Griffin’s thoughts, which showed as a glazed look on his face. You’re my friend, Griffin, and my teammate.

My man, we work like a charm both on and off the court, bragged Griffin as he shook his head to recover himself. He looked directly into Ed’s eyes and stated, Watch me score more points than you do off the court. You just don’t know who the lucky one is. Griffin jeered at his team captain.

The previous basketball season had made enormous headlines in local and regional newspapers. Both Ed and Griffin enjoyed the fame, and no one took home the blame. Coach Aponte’s two-line speeches still rang loud and clear in the ears and hearts of these two rival teammates.

Ed, Griffin, Jonathan Quincy, Colón Benitez, and his mirror-image twin-brother Victor were joking and jesting with each other about the tuxedos the young men would wear.

Colón Benitez and Becky Córpuz are a pair for tomorrow evening, announced Colón, the 6' 5" small forward of the Cranes.

Ed joked, Who comes first — C.B. or B.C.?

"Colón Benitez is